


Milk And Eggs

by Tiny_Dragongirl



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dalek - Freeform, Friendship, Gen, I just wanted to have some fun, Mostly Dialogue, Nothing serious, Post-Reichenbach, so I throw a Dalek-Oswin upon a Holmes-less Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:45:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiny_Dragongirl/pseuds/Tiny_Dragongirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens if Oswin Oswald (previously Junior Entertainment Manager onboard the starliner Alaska, now a Dalek with a personality) lands on the door-steps of the freshly settled-in John Watson (previously an army a doctor, now practicing as just-a-doctor)?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I swear I only wanted to entertain myself but then the story carried me away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milk And Eggs

’Would you care for some tea?’ They asked simultaneously which resulted in an awkward silence.

John Watson found his new sublet far too little even before a gigantic hoover landed on his door-step. It arrived one night, like a shooting-star, he wished the only thing he wanted ( _please, give my friend back_ ), and suddenly the thing was in his living-room, chatting cheerfully, without any idea about private sphere. _‘I shouldn’t have call Sherlock a machine,’_ he thought painfully when the first time the giant pepperpot winked at him with its blue lamp and declared its wish for some classical music. He successfully avoided it for the weekdays; he left every morning with the hope that it would vanish, but when he returned from work, the machine was still there, usually working in the kitchen – and now it was Saturday, and John couldn’t put off at least one serious conversation anymore.

‘Yes, please,’ cracked the machine. ‘But I am afraid we ran out of milk. I made a soufflé...’

‘Not again,’ John Watson hissed.

‘...very nearly.’

‘If I go down to the shop for some milk, I will find you still here when I come back?’

‘Of course.’

‘I hoped that you were only...’ He started, but as he looked into the little blue lamp, he was almost sure that he could see sadness there. ‘Oh, never mind. I think I have just gone mad as I am talking to a giant pepperpot.’

‘Oi, Jumper John! I am human!’

‘Stop calling me _Jumper_ John!’

‘But I like your jumpers! They are really nice. I would like one, too.’

‘I am not sure they make jumpers that are big enough for you.’

‘It’s not very nice to tell a lady she is fat!’

‘Since when you are a lady?’

‘All right, but I am still a girl, so please, show some respect! You are so rude to me.’

‘I don’t intend to be rude, I swear!’ He protested.

‘Of course not - you are just within an inch of calling me ugly!’

‘I won’t call you ugly and I didn’t mean it when I said you were big, is that all right?’

‘Maybe you don’t like me.’

‘I like you! Really!’ He asseverated desperately, while he had a slight suspicion that something had gone very wrong.

‘Really?’ The blue lamp glinted.

‘Yes.’ John nodded wearily. ‘It’s only that you are... you are not... that you are not exactly my type.’

‘That’s all right. No problem. Surely. It means that we can be flatmates without ruining our friendship!’

Flatmates? A big, talking hoover and him? In such a little flat? Oh, great.

‘You see...’

‘Oswin.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Please, call me Oswin, as this is my name.’

‘All right.’ He nodded slowly. ‘You see, Oswin, I am afraid it’s not that easy. I mean, you and me, being flatmates.’

‘I guess you are afraid what your girlfriends would say. It’s always suspicious when you share a flat with a girl. Especially when it’s such a tiny flat like this. We should think up a schedule for the bedroom. I fear I don’t feel absolutely well, my voice sounds a bit hoarse, doesn’t it? I should lie down for a couple of days.’

‘Well...’

‘Or is this just completely new for you as you have never shared a flat with anyone?’

‘Actually, I had a flatmate before.'

‘What was she like?’

'‘First of all, she was a _he_.’

‘Ah.’

‘I am not gay.’

‘Who said you were gay?’

‘Could we just drop the topic?’

‘I didn’t start it.’ God, he could hear the variety of emotions in its voice. Like it would have been actually a human. ‘Come on, tell me about your flatmate.’

‘Well, he could play the violin, sometimes he composed something all by himself, especially when he had his mind on a serious problem. Yes, he was always thinking about something, always; sometimes he didn’t say a word for days, sometimes he talked to me even when I wasn’t there. It was his hobby, his job, his life: thinking about things, gaining clues and solving problems. He hated to be bored, he was unbearable when he got bored. All right, he was always an annoying prick. Leaving heads and fingers in the fridge, shooting the wall, correcting everyone, calling everyone an idiot, that’s what he did. Sarcasm and intelligence and boredom everywhere! He ruined my things, read my e-mails, argued with the telly, grumbled like an old man, and acted like a child. We did the craziest things.’

‘Wow, it sounds like he was really clever.’

‘He was sort of a genious.’

‘I think I would have liked him.’

‘I bet you would.’ John grumbled.

‘By the way, I am a genious, too.’

‘Are you a genious? Really?’ He picked at Oswin.

‘Not so fast, Doctor Watson! You will find out soon that I am a clever one. Even the Doctor told it.’

Here again, this mysterious Doctor Nobody. John Watson tried to avoid to engage in a conversation for days, but he couldn’t shut Oswin’s machine-voice completely out. She often talked about this medical man and an asylum, where he might have worked, called Daleks. Quite a strange name even for an asylum, and Oswin always showed off with telling the story of her wonderful escape, which included the explosion of the whole building (she was such a boast-a-lot she called it a ‘planet’ instead of ‘hospital’).

So he found himself stuck in the company of a talking hoover who was a proven madman (or madwoman). Maybe he should know her therapist’s name, if it has turned out that every time he has a flatmate, he (or, presently, she) must be a sociopath at least.

‘Doctor who?’

‘Never mind, we could simply call him Doctor Chin.’

‘Doctor Chin?! Is he Chinese?’

‘No, no, he is Gallifreyan.’

‘Is that in Ireland?’

‘I guess it is. But anyway, tell me more about your friend.’

‘People didn’t like him much, and he usually didn’t act like a human, but anyway, I am sure he was the most human being I have ever met. He was my best friend. And now he is dead.’

‘I am sorry.’ She said quietly. ‘But look, he can be... I don’t know... alive.’

He didn’t answer, only shot a deeply sad glance at the robot-girl.

‘But really! I am alive while the Doctor thinks I am dead. This is quite simple. I am a genious, I managed to save my neck, he was a genious, he might have known some tricks, too.’

‘I saw him. I saw him to jump off the rooftop and I watched him fell.’ He hung his head.

‘Well, this is quite a proof.’

John stood up. ‘I should go to the shop before it closes.’

‘Good idea. Fine. And when you are back, I will make some soufflé for you, all right?’

‘I am not sure Mrs Hudson made soufflés the same way you do.’

‘Who is Mrs Hudson?’

‘She was my landlady when I lived with... with Sherlock. My friend.’

‘Maybe we should visit her. She could teach me how to make soufflés and you two could have a little chat.’

‘I am not sure it’s such a good idea.’

‘Are you saying this because you still think me ugly and don’t want your friends to see me, or you just don’t want to go back to the flat?’

‘You aren’t ugly. I quite like your style.’ John smiled. He still didn’t understand the function of her plunger (well, she used it as an arm, but why a plunger...?), but Oswin was so unusual, so surprising, that it was exciting.

‘Finally we are getting somewhere.’ He almost could see her smile, even that she didn’t have a mouth. ‘Could you bring some eggs, too?’

‘As you like it, Oswin. Milk and eggs.’


End file.
